


Tremor

by absolutelyCancerous (cal1brations)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Chorea, Headcanon, M/M, ah fuckin cuties okrvfcd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-29
Updated: 2013-11-29
Packaged: 2018-01-02 23:44:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1063092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cal1brations/pseuds/absolutelyCancerous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hell, it might even be cute, if it weren’t for the <i>squirming.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Tremor

He probably wouldn’t mind the fact Romano is so squirmy, if the boy didn’t always try to climb into his bed in the wee hours of the morning.

Romano does this with the purpose of waking him up, and more often than not starts punching at him when it’s later in the morning (like  _when the sun is actually up_ ), but there are just as many times when the little one crawls into the covers, finds he rather likes Antonio’s big, comfy bed, and closes his eyes, just for a little bit.

Hell, it might even be cute, if it weren’t for the  _squirming_.

His little arms and legs are restless, as much in the night as they are in the daytime. Always moving and jerking around—it makes Antonio very nervous when this happens at night, but Romano is never bothered, only sleeps and sleeps.

But it’s too much to deal with in his bed, when he’s supposed to be resting, when they’re  _both_  supposed to be asleep. Antonio sits up, lighting the lamp at his bedside and turning to wake the little one up gently.

“Romano.”

Nothing more than a twitch from his right arm.

“Roma?”

Again, nothing. Antonio grabs him, shaking him a little, worried. “Romano!”

Finally, the boy groans, like a distressed infant, and starts to cry, wailing about how he hadn’t slept well all night—why would Boss  _ruin_  that for him? Antonio sighs, pulling Romano to sit up against the pillows, and rubs the boy’s back tiredly.

“Too much dancing?” Antonio tries, offering up a sleepy smile.

Romano wails, wiping his face, and Antonio watches his feet curl and twitch under the blankets. He’s crying about being tired and how he wants Boss to do something, but Antonio hasn’t seen anything quite like this really.

“Do you want to walk around a little, Romano?”

Unenthusiastically, the boy nods, wiping his nose on his sleeve and climbs gracelessly over Antonio, his feet cold on the floor. He stands up and stares, and Antonio then realizes that  _he’s going on a walk with him before the sun is even up._  He gets up as well, throwing on a coat over his nightgown and telling Romano to get his coat and boots.

The kid scurries off, returning with his boots messily tied and his big coat wrapped around him. Antonio offers his hand, and Romano takes it, mumbling about how he’s a big boy and he doesn’t need to be treated like a baby.

Antonio leads him outside into the garden, where the sky is mostly dark, but the horizon is beginning to light up to a soft purple-pink. They walk casually, though Romano has to take more steps to keep up with Antonio’s long legs.

“I want to walk by myself!”

“It’s too dark, Romano. Stay with Boss.”

Romano huffs, but holds Antonio’s hand tightly. They walk to the patio out back, and only there does Antonio let Romano walk around on his own, stomp and jump and run, where he can’t get lost and is always in Antonio’s line of sight.

He moves around for about an hour or so—long enough that the sun has brightened the sky enough so they’re not in the total dark. Antonio struggles to keep his eyes open, and eventually, Romano begins to slow down, too. The boy stumbles over, falling on Antonio’s lap, and yawns.

“Sleep.  _Dormire_.”

Antonio picks the boy up, grunting as he stands and settles Romano against his shoulder, moving to walk back to the house and get him into bed. By the time he has the boy under the covers, he’s passed out, and lazy as he is, Antonio climbs into the bed as well, quickly falling asleep with his face mashed into Romano’s pillow.

.-._.-._.-.

Antonio figures out that doing this whole walking thing before Romano’s bedtime is a good way to get his shaking to stop—enough, at least, for the boy to get a little bit of peaceful sleep.

So when Romano is in his nightgown, Antonio takes a break from his work, leading the boy out into the patio. Most nights, it’s just the two of them, Romano running around by himself and Antonio watching, but there are a few nights where there’s remnants of a party—music still playing, lights still on.

On these nights, Antonio is honored when Romano demands company.

“Do you want to dance,  _mi pequeño_?”

“I don’t give a shit,” Romano huffs, and Antonio laughs, taking up the boy’s tiny hands.

Romano learns many dances, on late summer nights, with Antonio teaching him the steps and the rhythms this way. He learns the hat dance, and he learns a modified version of the Tango (to make up for his small size).

He also learns the Tarantella, and this, the two of them learn, is the cure to the shakes Romano has.

For whatever reason, the Tarantella makes him focus hard enough that his limbs don’t have the will to tremble and shake. Upon this, Romano gasps, looking at Antonio with a look of delight that Antonio has never seen on the boy’s face before.

“The shaking! It stopped—it  _stopped_!”

Antonio grins, hoisting Romano up into the air to spin him—this is fantastic news, it’s a cure! He kisses the boy’s cheeks, before hugging him close. Romano, however, is too busy staring at his non-shaking hands to bother with the gross affection Antonio lavishes him with.

So the Tarantella becomes the nightly thing. Even when it’s cold enough they can both see their breath and they need multiple layers to keep them completely warm, Antonio takes Romano out onto the patio, dances with him until Romano is exhausted and can hardly recall the proper steps to the dance, and only then does Antonio put the boy to bed, sure that he will sleep.

.-._.-._.-.

The shakes only really return when Romano’s hiding things. Being angry and not screaming about it, being sad and not crying, things that Antonio isn’t good at picking up—unless he catches those little trembles.

Romano is back for a nice dinner with him, which is nice, because Antonio could use a night away from his workbench and fake fabric roses. They go out together into town, eat at a nice restaurant and spend way too much time talking.

“Shit,” Romano hisses, checking his watch when they finish. “It’s late.”

“You’ll stay,” Antonio assures, finishing the last sip of wine from his glass. “It’s supposed to rain tonight—don’t bother, Romano.”

This is not uncommon, nor unwanted, because Romano does enjoy his time with Antonio, even if it’s only by mistake of not being able to get back home safely. They head back to Antonio’s together, the lights out on the patio a familiar and homely sight for the Italian.

“Party?” He questions as Antonio speaks to a housekeeper about Romano staying the night.

Antonio smiles at him once she steps away. “The cook’s daughter had a baby this morning.”

Romano rolls his eyes. “Any excuse for a party.”

The elder laughs, taking Romano’s hands delicately in his own; too rough and calloused. “You used to love the parties, Roma,” Antonio chimes. “You used to eat yourself sick.”

“Or maybe what I  _did_  eat made me sick!” Romano snaps, red in the face. “Besides, I liked the  _girls_  more than anything.”

Suddenly, Antonio’s close, nose-to-nose with Romano. He smiles, and Romano feels the other’s breath on his lips.

“Even more than Boss?”

Romano’s hands jerk, fly out to either side of them and shake continuously after they fall back down o his sides; Antonio frowns, because he knows.

“What’s the matter, Romano?”

Romano tries to cross his arms, but they uncross themselves and jitter. His feet twitch a little too, and he starts walking around, grinding his teeth before he can spit something out.

“I have a lot on my plate,” he hisses, and Antonio grabs the Italian’s arm, taking him outside to the dimly-lit patio, were a few lanterns remain hung. They stand in front of each other, before Antonio takes the first step.

Step, kick, step-step kick. Step, step, step, step kick-step-kick.

“You really th—!”

Romano’s feet already start stepping to match him—which is weird, because usually the tremors are things he can’t control. Then again, Romano knows this dance by heart, and seeing Antonio go through the steps with a smile on his face, just like when he was small…

They dance together. There is no music, but Romano hums the tune so he can remember the correct steps, and Antonio attempts to as well, but he ends up laughing even they switch feet in the kicking-type steps. Their shoes smack against the tiles, but Antonio is smiling and smiling, and Romano, finally, smiles too.

They dance until they can’t hear talking from inside the house. Until Antonio is panting and has to stop, doubled over his knees as he watches Romano finish the sequence he’s in the middle of. They breathe like old men, before Antonio stands up and pats Romano’s back, comfortingly. This is better than talking things out, because Romano is not a good communicator and Antonio couldn’t sense an atmosphere if it smacked him in the face.

But he knows how to fix those shakes, and Romano stares at him, watching that smile grow and grow, just like the old days.

“I’m impressed you remembered!” Antonio cheers. “Seeing as you forgot where the bathroom was so many times.”

Romano’s face goes red again, and he punches the other in the chest,  _hard_. “I’m surprised you’re not dead! That sure was a lot of work for someone who eats as much as you, fatass!”

Antonio laughs, taking Romano’s fist from his chest, and holds his hand, guiding him back inside. He turns off the patio lights, but they stand at the glass window together, staring outside into the night.

“How late have you been working?” Romano asks quietly, and Antonio sighs.

“Enough. Come now, Roma, you’re not here to fuss yourself.”

Romano shakes his head, and Antonio places a hand on his back, rubbing gently, up and down his spine. They leave to head to their bedrooms, but only one door opens and closes, and another dance is done to soothe Romano’s nerves.

The next morning, when it’s pouring rain, Romano doesn’t call for a ride. Antonio works on beautiful roses the moment the sun begins to rise, and Romano cuts the tape and wire for him, hands steady and all. 


End file.
